


The Centurion

by Broken_Clover



Category: Guilty Gear
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Gen, Human Sol, Swords, War Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28684347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broken_Clover/pseuds/Broken_Clover
Summary: Sol 'Badguy' Bulsara is the hotheaded Captain of the Holy Order of Knights. As far as he's concerned, his job is killing Gears, and not much else. But he finds his job (and life) interrupted by the mysterious new soldier, Private Ky Kiske.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	The Centurion

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic I've had for a while, and somehow only now managed to finish. Well, hopefully that means it's decent. I've always liked the idea of roleswaps and there's a surprising lack of them in the GG fandom

From a glance, Sol could tell that he hated the kid. Looked too clean, for starters. The still-immaculate bleached-white fabric and polished buckles was a pretty heavy tell that he was a newbie when it came to real battles. Probably one of those idealistic idiots that genuinely believed they had some ability to turn the tide of war. He’d already seen too many to want to entertain the overseer when he’d brought over the newbie in the middle of training.

“Sol, this is Private Kiske, and he’s being assigned to your unit.” 

Sol didn’t tower over him, like he did with most of the other recruits, but he still had a few extra inches to look down on him with. Kid was one of those pretty-boy types, silky blonde hair that had yet to be drenched in the slurry of mud and Gear viscera and whatever unsanitary sludge filled the trenches and wide, shiny blue eyes that were no doubt going to be ringed with sleepless circles and gradually grow dry and pale from battlefield flashbacks jolting him awake in the middle of the night. If he even managed to make it that long before falling face-first into a puddle of blood and not getting up, or having his limp body dragged off the field and stuffed into a bag to be sent home and buried.

“Whatever,” he grumbled, turning back to the sword that he was sharpening. “Go play with the other kids, or some shit. ‘m busy.”

The unlucky sap that had been sent to talk to him looked younger than both him and Kiske. Sol wondered if the little ratty tuft of hair on his lip was the first sign of a beard. It twitched unpleasantly as his lips pursed, and Sol fought a groan, knowing that he still had more to say.

“Erm, there is something else.” He retrieved a little roll of paper, tied up neatly with string. “Commander Undersn asked that he be assigned to you in specific. I-I don’t know all the details-”

“Gimme that.” Sol swiped it out of his hands. The string was snapped and he unrolled the paper. It was Undersn’s handwriting, alright, but aside from that Sol couldn’t be assed to read it. He simply crumpled it up and stuffed it in his back pocket and went back to work.

“O-oh…” The overseer seemed to have gotten the idea that he wasn’t going to get anything satisfactory out of him. “Um. I suppose that’s all for now, Private. Feel free to intermingle with your unit and settle down. We aren’t moving out for a few days.”

“Understood.” Jeez, even his voice was cutesy and boyish. Sol almost wanted to slug him in the face right then and there. “I look forward to working with you, _monsieur.”_

Ooh, a _French_ jackass, that was new. Sol still refused to look up at him. He raised his newly-sharpened blade and gave it a tentative swing, more in an attempt to intimidate than anything else.

“You don’t mind if I sit?” Kiske asked.

“Yeah.” At that, Sol gave him a pointed look. “I do.”

Either the kid was a moron, or he really liked being a dick, because he immediately sat down on the opposite bench anyway.

“...Not even five minutes in, and you already wanna start shit?” He watched Kiske smooth his uniform out like it was some fancy dress, and not the same cheap fabric they seemed to use for everything in the order.

He got a shrug in response. “I asked if you didn’t mind. You said yes, so I assumed that meant it was okay to do.”

His pointed look turned into a glare. “Cute. Real cute. So you know your fuckin’ words. What rich-ass fucker raised you, then? You get kicked out of some fancy fuckin’ university, so now you’re slumming it here?” He’d heard stories about aristocrats booting their kids off to war, to teach them responsibility or whatever before they spent the rest of their lives sitting on feather pillows and drinking expensive champagne. Sol thought it sounded like a great state-sanctioned way to off your own kids while making you seem like a good guy, but that was none of his business. 

For some reason, that got him a pleasant laugh in return. Had he actually thought that was funny? Did he somehow not know that they were in the middle of a war? Sol was used to a more sardonic sense of humor. 

“Descarte.” Kiske replied. “Public school. And I didn’t get kicked out.”

Sol sneered. “Of course you didn’t, _pretty-boy._ I’m sure you got the best marks.”

He didn’t seem to have a response to that. Fine enough for him. Sol sheathed his sword and walked out of the tent, only to groan inwardly at gentle footsteps trailing after him. “You can’t spend your tenure clinging to my skirt, Kiske, I’m not your fuckin’ mommy.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” A little fluff of blonde bobbed in his peripheral vision. “She was far less...brusque.”

“Tch.” Sol didn’t have time for this. “You want the rest of your fuckin’ unit to think you’re some pansy bitch?”

“Well, I suppose false assumptions are inevitable to some degree.”

“Here’s hoping your sword arm is as fast as your lips, kid.” In one smooth motion, Sol had his subordinate by the throat and his blade by his stomach. “Oh look. It isn’t.”

Ky looked uneasy at his predicament, but it was still a far cry from the pants-wetting terror he would have expected from anyone else in his company. “Are you going to stab me? Right out in the open?”

He had a point, and Sol hated that. But he couldn’t show weakness. “No point in keepin’ ya around if yer just gonna cause trouble. So ’re you gonna get your shit together and shut up or do I hafta make an example out of you?”

He held the sharp edge rigidly as he felt the other man squirm and try to breathe through it. When Ky realized the sword wasn’t going to do anything but dig further into his ribs if he tried to resist, he seemed to cut his losses and gave a jerky nod. “I- I understand.” He rasped through the chokehold.

“You gonna behave?”

“I’ll do my best-”

“Good.” Sol released him, taking an extra half-second to make sure Kiske wouldn’t tip over onto his ass, but nothing more. “Let’s hope your ‘best’ is half-decent, or I’ll stab ya through and dump you in the pigpen. Now go play with the other kids and leave me the fuck alone.”

That was the last he saw of Kiske. At least, for a few hours. Of course it could only be expected the brat would turn up to dinner on time. It was one of the few half-decent things about the Order. Especially considering that they were still in a settlement and not out in the middle of fucking nowhere, and the locals provided some food that wasn’t powdered, preserved in salt, or in one of many fabulous shades of muddy beige.

He hadn’t seen Kiske at first in the throng of people, but to be fair, it was difficult to pick anyone out in particular. It was way too small a tent to hold all of them at once, and whoever set up the damn meal schedule had to have fucked up, seeing as how the entire squadron was trying to grab away at the food table. At least Sol had strong arms and a strong presence that pushed away ratty boys and scruffy girls so he could slap a few things on his tray and head toward the nearest exit. He never preferred eating inside, anyway. The solitary darkness and the lack of fucking noise was much more appealing than that hellhole, even when it wasn’t positively overrun.

But just his luck, he spotted Kiske sitting on his favorite bench, neatly tucking into dinner. Figures. Of course the new guy wouldn’t know about the unspoken rules of the camp, like where you weren’t supposed to sit unless you wanted your nose bashed in.

Sol mentally debated whether or not he wanted to have to deal with this shit. But in the time he did so, he’d been spotted.

“Would you like to sit down, _monsieur?”_

Sitting next to an annoying jackass, or have the mud soak through his uniform from sitting on the marshy ground. It _seemed_ like an easy choice, but...

“Fine.” He grumbled, perching on the other side of the bench. “But shut the fuck up with that ‘monsieur’ crap.”

 _“Comme vous le souhaitez.”_ Kiske replied with a cheeky little grin. “Whatever you say, pard-ner.”

The ridiculously exaggerated accent only made him groan. “Jackass.”

That got him another annoyingly boyish giggle. “Apologies. Americans are very fascinating, I’ve never met so many until now.”

“Haven’t seen many French pricks m’self, if they’re all anything like you I have half a mind to let Her burn the whole place down.”

The other’s expression fell. “...’Her?’”

Sol rolled his eyes. “Y’know. Her. The one that’s been trying to kill us all for a hundred years.”

“Ah. I see. That is a...superstition? To not speak the name of something you do not wish to invoke?”

“Yeah, some kinda Catholic shit. Not like I ever paid attention in church.”

“I suppose I can understand.” Kiske moved to pat him on the shoulder, but seemed to think better of it. “In situations like this, it’s hard not to focus on anything but fighting. But there’s a place for balance.”

Sol picked at his food and scoffed again. “Order might be religious, but I sure as hell ain’t. How’m I supposed to believe in some merciful god if he lets shit like this happen? How’m I supposed to believe in anything?”

He was surprised to see such a stark reaction from his underling. Ky seemed utterly appalled at the sentiment. “What a thought! Then why are you even here?”

“The hell…?” Sol muttered under his breath. He tried to counteract his confusion with another cocky smirk. “What, you’ve gotta be a religious nut to be in the army now?”

“No, no, I don’t mean it like that. You must believe in the possibility of tomorrow!”

“How’s that?”

Ky gestured in grand sweeps, as though conducting his own sermon. “Even if you aren’t a man of God, surely you believe in _something_ , however small. If you truly believed in nothing, you wouldn’t be here. If you’re a member of the Order, that must mean you believe in the possibility that something can change. That there’s a possibility tomorrow will be better than yesterday. Why would you fight in a war for a tomorrow you don’t believe in?”

“Hmph.” Sol didn’t have a response to that. “Y’know, for a poncey little kid, you talk like an old man.”

Kiske seemed genuinely surprised at the sentiment. “You think so?”

“Don’t take it as a compliment, you remind me of _my_ old man, and not in a good way.” Sol took a swig of his coffee, nearly choking on the powdery black grounds that rimmed the bottom of his mug. “Is it some French thing?”

“Mmm.” Ky made a noncommittal noise and went back to his own tray. “How old are you?”

“What’s it to ya?” Sol scoffed. “17. If you even think of making a joke about that, I’ll knock you on your ass.”

“I had no such intention.”

“Sure ya didn’t.”

The conversation died for a while as they ate. Sol, for a moment, was almost excited to see Ky’s reaction to the food. It might’ve been better than usual, but it was still bland at best, and kids like him had to be used to real food. It was always fun to see their shocked reactions, but Ky merely ate without much reaction. This kid was a real enigma. Sol could handle whiny brats who thought going to war was like a game, but not something like this. 

“You seem to be staring at me. Was there something you wanted to say?”

Sol jerked to attention. Ky had never glanced up from his tray, but apparently he hadn’t been all that subtle. “Y’re just weird, that’s all. Still trying to wrap my head around it.”

“Ah. Well, I assure you that for however odd you find me, I’m still a competent soldier.”

“The fuck you are, you just finished basic training last week.”

“Finished basic training with the highest marks in Order history.” Ky replied with a little smirk.

The man was taken aback. “You’re full of shit.”

“Were you not given a document stating that? I was told it was my recommendation from Commander Undersn.”

Sol reached into his pocket and pulled out the rumpled paper. 

_To Captain Sol. I recognize that this is a sudden decision, and that you are still acclimating to your new rank and obligations, but I am to be assigning new recruit Private Ky Kiske to your specific unit henceforth. He has shown astounding prowess in training, achieving the highest basic training score in the history of the Holy Order. I understand I do not typically go out of my way to do specific assignments or recommend recruits to this degree, but his capabilities cannot be overstated. I feel the two of you have great potential in combat together. Even if I cannot convince you of my reasoning, I hope having him in your charge will make it clear._

_-Commander Kliff Undersn_

Ky looked at him eagerly. “Was I correct?”

“Eh, more or less. He barely mentioned you.” Sol shoved it back into his pocket, resolving to burn it later. “Surprised you waited that long to tell me that. Even the average idiots that’re smart enough to swing a sword without dropping it boast about their scores.”

“Well, I expected you would have already known. Regardless, I don’t feel boasting would have served any real purpose.”

At this rate, Sol was sure his eyes were going to roll right out of his head. “Ugh, so you’re one of _those_ assholes. Around here, if you want anyone to believe you’re not a complete dumbfuck, you’ve gotta prove it first. Can’t just coast by on being a wiseass.”

“Prove it?” Asked Ky. “How should I prove it?”

“Not like you gotta show me anything, I already-”

Sol cut himself off. He could feel a plan brewing in his mind. If he was gonna be responsible for another kid, then he was at least going to have a little fun. If Kiske was willing to run headlong into whatever bullshit he was put up to, Sol had no intention of intervening.

“Actually, if you _really_ want to make a good impression on the other guys, I’ve got just the thing.”

“Really? What is it?”

His eyes fell on the sloped roof of the church, silhouetted against the night sky on the other side of camp. “See that big building over there? Head on inside and go all the way back to the chapel room, I need you to find a sword for me.”

“A sword?” That immediately piqued Kiske’s interest further. “But...I just saw you sharpen yours earlier, haven’t you got one?”

“Yeah, yeah, but this one’s a special toy. Dig around in the back a bit. Should be in a nice case, if Undersn knows his shit.”

“I’m not sure I’m following. What about this weapon is so important? Why do you need it?”

“Didn’t you say you weren’t gonna cause trouble?” He sent a poisonous glare over his shoulder. Ky withered at his gaze. Sol was just happy he wouldn’t have to deal with more stupid questions.

“U-understood.”

“Yeah. Good. Get that sword and bring it to me. Nothin’ else to it. Was that enough, or do y’need me to simplify it more?”

“No, sir.”

‘Sir.’ Kid knew how to butter up, that was for sure. “Alright, get on it, then.”

And so, Ky vanished. Sol wasn’t sure what he had expected. After the initial ten minutes or so spent waiting for the kid to chicken out and run back without having made it so far as the other side of the camp, he went back to finishing his food. Ky never showed up during dinner, or when he went back in to dump his dirty tray off at the cleaning station- thank god he wasn’t on the chore list for that tonight. The sound of the closing whistle came and went, but Kiske still wasn’t back. Sol considered taking what little time he had between dinner and when the next whistle sounded for everyone to tuck in for the night to actually do something fun, but the idea of teasing Kiske when he inevitably got caught for breaking in and trying to steal something was too good to pass up.

Still, that only got him so far. Sol tried to find ways to occupy himself, picking at the seams of his uniform, setting fire to individual blades of grass before stamping them out, digging a bit too deep into his weekly cigarette stash. It all kept him occupied for so long, but after enough waiting, the man found himself dozing off in place, hunched over on the bench.

_“Monsieur Badguy?”_

He jolted back to full awareness, instinctively grabbing at his scabbard. He managed not to accidentally stab anyone in the ribs, though the look Kiske gave him as he flailed made him wish he hadn’t.

“Apologies, that was not supposed to happen.” Ky said, through stifled laughter. “I did not mean to take so long.”

“Didn’t mean to take so long to- ?” Sol was shocked to see that Kiske had a black case slung over his back. “I- the fuck?! Where did you get that?”

The blonde tilted his head curiously. “Exactly where you told me it was. Was that not the point?”

How the fuck did this reedy greenhorn manage to get away with stealing that?! It felt like his brain was about to combust from the sheer level of confusion. Wait a minute, _he actually had the sword._ “Pass the damn thing.”

It had to be a joke. Kiske had to be pulling his leg. But he had no hesitation in passing over the case, and the weight made it clear there actually was something inside. That spurred Sol on further, as he laid it across his lap, undid the latch, and flipped it open. This had to be a joke, he had to be full of shit-

A square-edged blade sat neatly nestled in a bed of black velvet. It shimmered in the darkness without a single spot on it, almost seeming to radiate a magical aura that made it impossible for Sol to take his eyes off it.

“How the fuck…?”

“It was like you said.” Ky said with a polite bow, clearly unaware of how impossible it should have been. “It’s a beautiful weapon, if I do say so myself.”

“Uh, yeah.” Sol was still completely dumbfounded at the concept that he’d even managed to find the thing. “Supposed to be super old. Dunno how it’s still in one piece.”

“Oh, the Fireseal is incredibly hardy. Practically indestructible.”

Sol had to do a double-take. Kiske was looking at the weapon almost fondly. “What?”

“Well, that’s what I’ve been told, anyway. It’s a very special weapon, isn’t it? Part of the ‘Inlaid,’ or something like that?”

“‘Outrage.’” Sol corrected him, taking the weapon out of his grip. “But this thing still packs a hard punch by itself. Amplifies fire magic.”

“You’re a fire-user?”

“The fuck d’ya think I’m wearing the red uniform for, dumbass? It’s not as hoity-toity as those damn lightning wizards, but I can still blow your head off with a fireball from fifty yards with a snap.”

“Really?”

“You’re not the only half-decent fighter in this damn shitshow. As soon as I set the training ground on fire, Undersn immediately let me in.”

“Sounds like quite the story.” Ky sat himself down on the bench, with his legs neatly together and hands in his lap. Something about it made Sol want to punch him in the nose. Hard. “So tell me, how did a man called ‘Badguy’ manage to become the leader of the Holy Order?”

Sol scoffed. “It’s a nickname, dumbass. You really think my name’s ‘Badguy?’”

“Well, not the weirdest I’ve seen.” He shrugged. “Once knew a man named Low.”

“That’s not all that weird.”

“You think? Suppose I can see that.” Ky paused to smooth his skirt out again. “Interesting fellow, him. You two probably would have gotten along. Very...ah, _comment dites-vous_...what’s the word Americans use…’scrappy?’”

“Y’know, calling someone a dumbass won’t kill ya.”

“Mmm. Well, there’s something to be said for a gentler approach.”

Sol coughed on his own spit as he doubled over laughing. “A _gentler approach?_ I’d like to see you try to defeat Justice with words. That’d be something.”

Despite his companion’s laughter, Ky suddenly looked morose. “She must have some sense of rationality, though, wouldn't you say?”

“Pfft. If she does, she has a weird way of showing it. Y’know we’ve been at this nearly a century, right?”

“Of course, of course I know.” But Ky didn’t look any more assured. “But even if her actions are reprehensible, everything deserves a right to exist, doesn’t it? Even her.”

Sol’s expression hardened. “If that’s your mindset, then you need to get the fuck out of the military. Gears are monsters, plain and simple.”

From the look on his face, Ky looked seconds away from bursting into another dramatic speech, and Sol was ready to finally punch him over it. Instead, he just sighed, shaking his head in defeat.

“I don’t agree with your mindset, but I can at least understand where you come from.”

“Ain’t that noble of you.” Sol grumbled back, pulling out and lighting a new cigarette. “Nobility only gets ya so far, though. You remembering all this shit? Hopefully you can remember as well as you swing a sword.”

“I’ll do my best.” Replied Ky, regaining a bit of life to his movements. “For the most part, I do have a strong memory, though I’m not always the best at remembering things that happened a long time ago.”

The man snorted. “Y’look younger than me, cut the shit. You might talk like a goddamn grandpa, but I’m half-convinced you’re one of those jackoffs that lied about their age on the enlistment papers. You sure as hell don’t _look_ sixteen, that’s for sure.”

That got Ky to laugh. “I’ve been told I have a young man’s face. People are always surprised when I correct them. I am a bit older than I look.”

“Oh yeah?” Sol replied. “How old’re you, then, grandpa?”

Before Ky could reply, the evening whistle went off. 

“Huh?” Ky looked up, trying to find the source of the noise. “What was that? Are we under attack?”

“No, dumbass, that means it’s time to go to bed.”

“Oh.”

“C’mon, Kiske.” Sol stood up, and gestured for him to follow. “I’ll show you where we bunk for the night. Better get going before the other newbies claim all the good bunks.”

++++++

The morning whistle was a shrill one, strong enough to wake up everyone bunked in a unit. The noise that woke Sol up was incredibly loud, but it was a different sort of loud, one that made him sure he was going to have a headache from it for most of the day.

“The hell…?”

He fumbled with his supplies, managing to belt his uniform on as he stumbled out of the bunk tent. Most of the other soldiers had already been woken up by the racket and had formed a confused mob outside.

“What the hell is all that noise?” He asked the nearest lieutenant.

He seemed just as lost as Sol was. “The Commander’s really pissed off at something! I dunno what set him off, but I’ve never seen him this mad!”

Sol opted to push through the crowd towards the source of the yelling. The louder it got, the more the group thinned, as though pushed back by Undersn’s voice. He found the man himself in front of the administrative building, shouting at one of the night guardsmen.

“So if one of you RECKLESS FOOLS isn’t going to admit to the security breach, then we’re going to have to retest half the army!!” He said. “Are you and your men going to put personal pride before something like that?!”

“N-no, sir! We would never!” The young man replied back, terrified out of his mind. “But I swear on my life, none of us went inside the chapel!”

“Undersn?” Sol approached the two. “What is going on here?”

The Commander paused to rub at his temples in frustration. “Sol. I was wondering where you were. We’ve had a security breach, and nobody seems to know what exactly happened. Sometime last night, there was a break-in-”

The man suddenly cut himself off. Sol wondered why, but eventually traced his vision towards the belt around his waist. In his panic to make himself presentable, he had forgotten Fireseal was still hanging al his side.

“Sol.” The Commander’s tone evened out, but that only made him more frightening. “Where is the other one?” 

Sol was thoroughly lost. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Undersn.”

The man had gotten so close, Sol could almost feel his breath. “The other sword, Bulsara. _Where. Is. The Thunderseal?”_

Despite his standoffish nature, Sol was becoming genuinely nervous. _“I dunno,_ Undersn! I didn’t steal it, Kiske did! And he must’ve stolen the Thunderseal, too!”

“Do you genuinely expect you can shirk the blame on someone else?” Kliff barked back. “I can put up with your antics to some extent, but Captain or not, I can’t just overlook- !”

“Commander Undersn, sir?”

“Private Kiske?” The man’s anger alleviated slightly as he looked past Sol. “What are you-”

“I heard the commotion, sir.” Ky gave a polite salute. “I...I had a feeling this would happen.”

He flushed with shame, dropping his head. “I’m very sorry, sir. I was the one who stole the Fireseal. I was dared by the Captain, but- but I should have known better than to do something this outlandish, so please, however you intended to punish him, please punish me, instead.”

Sol and Kliff both stared at him in disbelief. Sol was flummoxed by the concept of Kiske turning himself in in the first place. He had the perfect opportunity to keep his head down and use his status as Undersn’s star prodigy to let Sol take the full brunt of it all. It _had_ been his idea in the first place, so not like it would have been undeserved in the first place.

All of that, altogether, told Sol one thing: Ky Kiske was a sanctimonious prick, and Sol hated his guts.

Undersn regained his composure, and stood up straight. “I see. Well, I suppose I can admit, Sol, that your prowess had made me consider allowing you to use Fireseal in the field. Considering the circumstances, I can’t justify taking it away from you, so I suppose now is a perfectly good time to put it under your care. But Private Kiske, I’m still going to need you to return the Thunderseal-”

“What?” Ky replied, tilting his head. “But I don’t have it.”

Undersn was incredulous. “What? You can’t expect me to believe that, after admitting to taking the Fireseal-”

“But sir,” he interrupted, then blushed. “Um, apologies for interrupting. But I promise I’m being genuine. When I entered the chapel last night, there was only one sword in the display.”

“WHAT?!”

“What?” The night guard parroted, going sheet-white. “How could that be? We were watching the grounds all night!”

“...Then we do have a problem after all.” Kliff said, jaw stiff. “I will have to find a way to compare testimonies for last night to look into this. You are all dismissed.”

“Everyone’s dismissed!” Sol repeated, shouting over the crowd. “Go back to the morning schedule!”

“Is there anything we can do to help, sir?” Ky asked.

Undersn shook his head. “I will have to talk to you two later. For now, you two are also dismissed.”

The man turned and walked off back into the building. As soon as he was out of view, Sol was dragging Ky off behind another building, eventually slamming his back into the wall.

“Okay, jackass, spill it.” He growled. “What the hell is your problem?”

“‘Problem?’ _J-je ne comprends pas- ?”_

“Don’t play stupid with me, Kiske. Why would you tell Undersn you stole the damn things but then lie and say you left one behind?!”

“I-I didn’t lie!” Ky protested, trying to push back. 

“What kind of shit are you trying to pull- ?!”

“Swear on my life, I’m not lying to you! What would I possibly gain by lying?”

Sol kept his grip tight, but stopped trying to grind the kid’s head into the bricks. “And what reason would I have to believe anything you say?”

“Whether you believe me or not won’t change anything.” Ky replied. “I could ask why I owe you anything in the first place, seeing as how you deceived me into stealing from the Holy Order.”

“Look, kid. If you were stupid enough to listen to me, that’s your own problem.” He leaned right into Kiske’s face, grinning wickedly. “But don’t you forget, I’m still your Captain, so you’d better remember your-”

Without warning, Sol found himself stumbling back, with his arm in a fierce grip. He caught a brief glimpse of sharp blue eyes before he himself was thrown face-first into the wall. Despite his lithe frame, Kiske somehow managed to keep him pinned to the wall, with an arm twisted painfully behind his back.

“Wh- what the hell?”

“I recognize your authority as my Captain. Still, perhaps consider what you mean to do with that authority.” Ky murmured in his ear. “I may be new to the Holy Order, but this is far from my first conflict, and you’re _far_ from the worst I’ve had to deal with. So for everyone’s sake, I would advise playing nice. Do you understand, _gamin?”_

Sol was still so shocked, he couldn’t think to do anything but comply. “Jesus, okay, okay-”

“Good.” Kiske let him down not-so-gently, pulling away so quickly that he stumbled backwards and fell on the ground. Sol rubbed at his sore backside, grumbling curses under his breath. He looked up at Kiske’s retreating figure. Somehow, he had reassumed that harmless-looking boyishness, with no sign any of the last few minutes had just happened.

“What the fuck…” He gasped. “What the hell are you?!”

Ky turned around again, smiling warmly and innocently. “I’m your unit’s newest private, of course! And I’m looking forward to working with you, _monsieur Badguy.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I might end up doing more with this in the future, but I'm not sure yet


End file.
